


Backless

by stopmysinfulhand



Series: Gimme, Gimme, Gimme [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Biting, Eating out, Established Relationship, F/M, Far From Home spoilers, Flirting, Marking, Protected Sex, Smut, mysterio and his silly silly costume, quentin’s a little insecure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-11 01:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20145643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmysinfulhand/pseuds/stopmysinfulhand
Summary: You circled him so you could help him remove his chest plate, and nearly burst into laughter. Quentin heard your restrained giggles and looked at you over his shoulder. “What?”“Babe,” you said through snickers. “There’s no back to your costume.”Based on the interview where Jake Gyllenhaal mentions his Mysterio costume was backless and covered by the cape.





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t read if you haven’t seen Far From Home and care about spoilers.

“Hi, honey,” said Quentin as he entered your hotel room, still dressed in full fake-superhero regalia, cape and all.

“Hi, Quentin,” you greeted, popping up from your chair. He approached you and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you slightly as he kissed you. You smiled against his lips. “Good day?”

“Great day,” he agreed. Quentin spun you around and planted another kiss on your lips. “I’ve got them eating out of the palm of my hand,” he said excitedly. “The drones worked perfectly.”

You grinned. His joy was infectious. “I saw the news. That was quite a show you put on,” you praised. You took a small step back and admired your boyfriend in his costume. “Janice is a genius,” you said, mostly to yourself.

Quentin held his arms out. “You like the suit?”

“Love it,” you purred. You tapped gently on the lit sections and smiled. “Want help getting out of it?”

“Is that a come-on?” Quentin asked, bemused. “Because it sounds like a come-on.”

“Maybe it is.” You stepped closer and ran your hands over where the chest plate met the cape. “So? Yes, or no.”

“No way I could refuse an offer like that,” he said smoothly. He unclasped his cape and let it fall. You circled him so you could help him remove his chest plate, and nearly burst into laughter. Quentin heard your restrained giggles and looked at you over his shoulder. “What?”

“Babe,” you said through snickers. “There’s no back to your costume.” The part that had been covered by his cape was cut into a rather tasteful ‘V’, his chest plate only wrapping around to the edge of his shoulder blades.

The more you laughed, the gloomier Quentin began to look. “Janice didn’t have time to finish the whole thing after the last one got trashed,” he muttered. Even with all his practice sessions, his time with the earth elemental had roughed him up more than expected. “It’s not that funny.”

“I’m sorry, Q, I really am,” you said earnestly. You turned his head towards you and kissed him. “I’m not making fun of you. Actually, I think it’s sexy.”

His large blue eyes narrowed. “You do?” he asked, suspicious.

“Oh yeah.” You ran your hand up his bare back and grinned. “Nothing quite as hot as a bit of exposed skin.”

“I feel like you’re still making fun of me,” he lamented.

“Nooo,” you said, soothingly. You pressed soft kisses to the nape of his neck and along his bare shoulders. You undid the buckles that kept his chest plate on and helped him remove the stiff garment. Quentin visibly relaxed, a literal weight now off his chest. “How do you move in that thing?” you asked in awe.

“It’s next to impossible,” he replied, rolling his shoulders. Light glinted off his green bodysuit, the scale-like pattern accenting where the fabric clung to him. Without the armor, he looked more like a fashionable scuba diver than a superhero. You knelt in front of him to help with his strange metal garters. “What are you smiling at?” Quentin asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you said. You set the garters aside with the rest of his armor and stood. “You’re just cute, is all.” _ And your costume is even wackier than I thought, _ your brain supplied.

“Cute,” he deadpanned. “I thought I was sexy.”

“You’re both,” you assured him. “Now. How on Earth are you supposed to get out of this thing?” You pinched green fabric between your fingers and let it snap back onto his arm.

Quentin easily spilled the collar over his head. It took a bit more effort for him to peel the sleeves off. You would’ve helped, but it was much more fun to watch the way his muscles flexed as he wiggled out of the skintight suit.

He stood before you in tighty-whities, his green suit discarded like a shed snakeskin. You grinned, and he gifted you with a tentative smile. “You’re so handsome,” you gushed.

His smile nearly faltered. “Are you making fun of me again?”

You sighed. He was always so paranoid. You took his hands and sat him on the bed, crawling into his lap once he was seated. “I meant it,” you said, cupping his face in your hands. You could tell he was uncomfortable. His gaze kept flicking around, the movement similar to the way hummingbirds flew, unable to rest for too long on one thing. Especially if that thing was you. “Quentin.”

Your firm tone caused him to look at you, and this time his bright-eyed stare lingered. “What?” he asked, his expression guarded.

“I love you.”

The change was instant. Quentin relaxed and pulled you closer, an easy smile spreading across his face as he leaned up to kiss you. He was chaste with his affections, despite the fact that he was nearly naked beneath you. It was endearing. “Thank you,” said Quentin, earnest in his thanks.

He hardly ever said he loved you in return, but he didn’t need to. He showed his love in other ways. Quentin began to create a trail of kisses from your collarbone and up the column of your neck.

You know what they say. Actions speak louder than words.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Very smutty.

Quentin laid you back against the pillows and hovered over you. His mouth attached to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He eased your legs open and settled on top of you. His body fit well against yours, like he was made to be there. You smiled at the thought, and tipped your head to the side to give him more room. Quentin went to work on a hickey that would peak above your shirt neckline. You didn’t mind. 

Pushing up your shirt, Quentin’s hands crept over your torso, making you squirm. You felt his smile against your neck. You huffed. “Don’t tickle me,” you pleaded.

“But you’re so cute,” he cooed with a chuckle. He separated from you long enough to see the glare you gave him and conceded. “Fine, fine. Have it your way.” 

You grinned. You always had it your way.

Quentin pushed your shirt up more, which you took as a sign to just take the danged thing off. You sat up, pulled it over your head in a quick motion, and were covered again by Beck just as quick. You arched your back, pressing your chest against his so he could unhook the clasp on your bra. He waited for you to slide the straps down your shoulders and then tossed the garment away. He drew a soft giggle from you when his beard scratched along your collarbone. “Q, I said no tickling,” you said with a pout. 

“Unintentional,” he assured you, but you could hear the smile in his voice and knew he was lying. You rolled your eyes.

You pressed on his chest. Quentin separated from you long enough that you could wiggle out of your jeans. “There. Now we’re even,” you said with a smile. 

“Oh good,” said Quentin. He knelt beside you, waiting for you get comfortable. Once you were properly propped up, he settled between your legs again. Quentin began to work southward, slowly covering you in hickeys and bite marks as he did so. 

He bit your stomach particularly hard, causing you to wince. “Bastard,” you muttered, much to Quentin’s amusement. He chuckled and continued to move down without comment. You lifted your hips when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your underwear, wiggling to assist him in the task of sliding them down. 

Anticipation curled in your stomach as he spread your legs further and settled on the bed between. His head bent down slightly, but he avoided the spot you wanted him, choosing instead to pay some attention to your thighs. “Quentin,” you whined. 

Your boyfriend shook his head. “So needy,” he mused. Then, he was right where you needed him, the tip of his tongue brushing against your clit. A gasp left your throat and you arched towards his mouth. He placed a heavy hand on your hips, his fingers splayed out to still you. You slid your hand in his thick hair and tried your best to be still like he wanted. Quentin took his time, his tongue moving in languid strokes over your clit. He was toying with you, leaving you panting and dizzy. The feeling was intoxicating; he was intoxicating. 

Looking down at him was overwhelming. His usually perfect hair was mussed, strands falling into his face and nearly obscuring the bright blue eyes that gazed up at you. His expression was a mix of smug and adoring; something only he could pull off. 

You groaned. “Don’t look so p-pleased with yourself,” you muttered. 

He lifted his head and licked his lips. You shuddered. “I can’t help it,” he mused. “I am pleased with myself. Seems like you’re pretty pleased with me, too.” 

You grumbled but didn’t dispute his claim. Instead, you pushed gently on his head. Quentin took the hint and went back to work. Your breath hitched as he ran his tongue teasingly over your slit. 

His lips closed around your clit. Your hips jolted forward as he prodded the bundle of nerves with his tongue. Your thighs clamped around his head. Each brush of his tongue sent shivers through you. You gripped the sheets. Pleasured raced through your veins like electricity, fogging up your head in a most delightful way. “Quentin,” you moaned, “I’m gonna—“ 

Quentin pulled away completely. Your fingers unthreaded from his hair, and you whined unhappily. “Patience is a virtue, honey,” he purred. He wiped his mouth and kissed you. You sighed through your nose, but reciprocated the kiss nonetheless. Your arms twined around his neck and you pressed your hips up, grinding against his still-covered erection. He groaned softly against your lips. You smiled.

You separated from the kiss and moved your mouth to his collarbone. Any mark you made would be covered up by his costume. Well. Almost any mark. 

You dug your nails gently into his back and dragged downwards, leaving bright red lines in his skin. Quentin didn’t seem to mind. His hips jolted forward, rubbing his clothed cock just right against your clit. Both of you moaned. “You like when I scratch you?” you asked against the shell of his ear. 

In reply, Quentin growled and rutted against you. Since your hands were already down there, you pushed his underwear down, freeing his cock. The feeling of skin on skin was delectable. You scratched from the base of his back to his shoulders, and Quentin’s hips jolted forward again. 

Your toes curled and you pressed up against him. The head of his cock brushed teasingly over your slit. “Quentin,” you whined. 

The bastard smirked. “You want me to fuck you, honey?” he asked, rather condescending in his tone. You would’ve said something snarky, but then he had his erection in hand and was purposely dragging the head over your slit, applying just enough pressure to send flashes of pleasure through you. 

So, instead, you mumbled out an affirmative.

Quentin leaned over you. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.” He prodded you again with his length.

“Yes!” you cried. “Yes, I want you to fuck me.” 

That seemed good enough for him. Quentin reached over to the bedside table and picked a condom from the drawer. You watched as he carefully tore it open with his teeth, his eyes never leaving yours, even as he rolled it on. His dedication to planning warmed your heart. He never left anything up to chance, your boyfriend. 

Any other sweet thoughts were thrown out the window as he flipped you over, and pressed into you from behind. “That’s it,” he cooed. “You take my cock so well.” 

His praises had you blushing, but luckily he couldn’t see your face, as it was pressed into a pillow. 

He moved slowly, his thrusts careful to give you time to adjust. Quentin hovered over you, his chest against your back. One hand went to rest on your waist, the other slipping down between your legs. You cried out as he began to rub soft circles on your clit. 

Your boyfriend continued to go maddeningly slow, each thrust rubbing ever so gently against your g-spot. You thought you were going to lose it. “Quentin, please,” you begged, your voice breathy. 

“Please, what?” asked Quentin. He straightened, but kept his hand on your clit. His other hand went to your ass, which he stroked lovingly. 

“Harder,” you croaked. “I need more.” 

“More,” he repeated. He seemed to savor the word as he considered it. “I suppose I could.” His voice was husky with pleasure, and the sound of it made you clench around him. His hips stuttered. You could hear his smile when he spoke again, this time right by your ear. “You’re so needy today,” purred Quentin. “Clenching around me like that. You may get more than you bargained for.” 

You moaned and clutched the sheets. “I-I can take it,” you assured him, glancing at him over your shoulder. His smile was dazzling and your walls fluttered around him again. 

He shrugged nonchalantly. “If you say so,” he said.

The pace Quentin set was grueling. His gentle movements were replaced with harsh thrusts, each one rocking you forward. All the while, he brushed his fingertips against your clit. Your eyes rolled back in your head. Each thrust tore a moan from your chest, and you were pretty sure you were drooling. 

“Quentin,” you breathed. “I’m gonna—“ You couldn’t finish the sentence. He slammed into you and the coil of pleasure in your stomach broke. Your orgasm spread through you like fire in your veins, wholly consuming you. Your vision went white and there was a ringing in your ear. 

When you had mostly regained your composure, you could hear Quentin panting in your ear. “You want me to cum in you?” he asked, hushed voice sending a thrill through you. 

“Please,” you begged. “Please cum in me. I want you so bad.” 

At your plea, Quentin bucked into you, pushing as deep as he could before he came with a moan. 

When he pulled out, you collapsed, unable to support yourself any longer. Your boyfriend chuckled breathily and lovingly slapped your ass. You winced slightly and rolled onto your back. Stretching proved painful but necessary. Your hips were cramped, but you decided it was worth it; especially when you saw how radiant Quentin looked. 

“How was that?” he asked after he had carefully pulled off the condom, knotted it, and tossed it in the trash can. 

You grinned and pulled him down so he was laying next to you. “Do you even need to ask?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed many kisses to his cheek. “It was incredible.” 

“Good,” said Quentin, obviously preening at your praise. 

You snuggled closer to him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and dragged you until you laid on top of him. Carding your hand through his hair, you pressed a kiss to his nose. Quentin scrunched his nose in the most adorable way, and you couldn’t resist giggling. “I love you,” you said blissfully. 

Quentin smiled. “I love you, too.” Then, he kissed you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this one!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns. 
> 
> This fic is part of my Gimme, Gimme, Gimme series, a (mostly) request-based collection of works. Requests are always open!


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